Live from Lockdowna social media platform for prisoners2015-07-30T14:04:12Zhttp://www.livefromlockdown.com/feed/atom/WordPressMark Dixonhttp://www.livefromlockdown.com/?p=40452015-07-30T13:46:39Z2015-07-30T13:29:16ZJaheim and his childhood best friend Rick sit in a parked car and smoke blunts and sip a bottle of hard liquor.

Jaheim and his childhood best friend Rick sit in a parked car and smoke blunts and sip a bottle of hard liquor.

Jaheim inhales the marijuana smoke, “See I get high to take me out of this chaos; Turn up,” and exhales.

“You a lie. You get high cause it feels good,” Rick replies as he takes a sip from the bottle.

“Huh, aight, you right. But still, once I feel good, my situation don’t look so bad,” Jaheim says as he passes the blunt and receives the drink. “Maybe that’s true but that don’t change the reality of your situation. It only makes you blind to what’s going on.” Jaheim jerks his head back in surprise, “This must be some good cause you starting to sound like Elijah.” “Elijah? Who dat?” Rick asks. “Elijah Muhammad from the Nation of Islam.” Both men burst into laughter as Rick chokes on some smoke.

“You a fool, but you ever thought about that?” “What, how much you sound like Elijah Muhammad?” “Naw fool. You ever thought that we could be doing more with our time than getting high every chance we get?” “I don’t know about you, but things so fucked up around here, if I aint high, I’d probably snap.”

For a second the only sound in the car is the crackling of the fire as the weed gets smoked.

“Look around Ja, what you see?” Jaheim checks the rearview mirror and looks out the driver’s side window, “Yeah, this some fire weed. You definitely sound paranoid.” “Naw, straight up, what you see?”

Jaheim looks across the street at the burned out building that he and his homies used as a hangout until crackhead Jim burnt it down. A few houses down is the rundown house where the twins, Quita and Sheri, used to sell dope until they were robbed and killed. Directly across the street from that house is the house where J-Bo aka Jonathan shot three rivals in a drunken rage two years ago. Both houses stare at the empty dark street in front of them. After so many losses most of the families left the block leaving it empty and rundown.

“Yo, for real, I don’t see nothing. You tripping.” “Am I? Think Ja, this a neighborhood. Why it look like a war-torn battlefield? Cause we too busy gettin’ high to care. All the weed, all the liquor in the world don’t make that reality go away. On the real, it’s clouding our vision of what’s really going on.”

Jaheim sips the drink as he starts the car. “Where we going? I thought we was posted?” Rick asks.

“Takin’ yo ass home. All that preaching blowin’ my buzz.”

“Chill out. I’m just . . .” about to put the blunt to his, Jaheim snatches it. “I guess you don’t want no more of this either,” he says laughing.

]]>0Vincent Gamboahttp://www.livefromlockdown.com/?p=40422015-07-30T13:35:07Z2015-07-29T11:55:46ZI remember after the Rodney King police beating and the Los Angeles riots in 1992 many Crips and Bloods declared a peace treaty [known as the truce of nine-deuce]. During this time it was widely speculated that Los Angeles police officers in unmarked cars would drive through rival neighborhoods shooting and disrespecting gang members to […]

I remember after the Rodney King police beating and the Los Angeles riots in 1992 many Crips and Bloods declared a peace treaty [known as the truce of nine-deuce]. During this time it was widely speculated that Los Angeles police officers in unmarked cars would drive through rival neighborhoods shooting and disrespecting gang members to reignite the hostilities. In my opinion, the unity of all races is becoming more of a reality. But I wonder if the disproportionate killing of unarmed black men by white police officers is another attempt to ignite racial divide.

Not too long ago it had been brought to my attention that the streets were in dire need of a “zero-tolerance” type conversation. Hoping it would possibly bring a few back to the essence and away from the Frank Ocean type behavior. With my ear to the pavement, I’m hearing it’s entirely too much faking taking place. Pretend thugs, Grammy Award winning gang-bangers and simply put scared n!**as with mean mugs. No disrespect to the real ones!

Well, as you can somebody has blown the whistle and called the penitentiary for replay:

Flagrant foul on all fake n?*!as!

I’ve never known wolves to congregate among other than their own kind or have any chill for sensationalized suckas. How did we get to the point where “gangstas” sporting cartoon socks get passes?

Now that’s animated.

Hold! Easy lil daddy. Don’t shoot. I trust you got the burner in the whip cause aint no thumper fitting in the waist of those too tight Trues you rockin’.

Recently I found out they cancelled America’s Most Wanted. It no longer made sense when all the “killas” and “4 real n?*!as” could be found posing on Instagram. Your timeline shows at 7:45pm July — 2015 you were at a Sam Smith concert.

“You know you done fucked up right?!”

Would y’all please stop laughing. This is supposed to be serious. But if you know this type of “gangsta”, please hashtag now #ISeeYou

I remember a time when real gangstas had the streets in a frenzy. Today, the streets are filled with mohawks, blonde fades and flat-tops.

Oh you gangsta right?

To the original gangstas still holding it down: Give ’em a lil guidance even though I know the faking got you far beyond frustrated. Let ’em know it’s nothing wrong with the throwback look, but ask them, “why not N.W.A without the curl or an Illmatic Nas, instead of Kwame and the polka dots?”

Ghostface what’s good? Stay true!

This message has been approved by the penitentiary.

*This is not intended to disrespect anyone living their life. This is strictly for those imitating another’s.

]]>0Quaheem Edwardshttp://www.livefromlockdown.com/?p=40262015-07-30T14:02:36Z2015-07-27T12:44:32ZThis is a continuation of the I Statement Series. The recession is over. Gas prices have dropped. It is safe to say the economy is in fair condition. And you still don’t have a job. Your excuse probably is “I can’t find one.” Well let’s take a look at some of the reasons why you […]

The recession is over. Gas prices have dropped. It is safe to say the economy is in fair condition. And you still don’t have a job. Your excuse probably is “I can’t find one.” Well let’s take a look at some of the reasons why you may not and see where you fit in.

1. Worrying What Others Will Say or Think
More than likely, the same individuals who you worry about clowning you for working at McDonald’s have yet to assist you finding a job. I am willing to bet that you consider these same individuals your friends. Well, here is some truth, real friends will show their support, especially if the talk is about doing what is right. But most of the so-called friends we know are usually standing behind us encouraging us to put in some work with negativity. Fast food wages are on the rise and a job at MCDonald’s sure beats being broke and miserable.

2. Comparing Fast Money to a Paycheck
This is often done by the guys who have spent most of their days on the corners. They say things like “I can make a McDonald’s check in one drug deal.” And this is true. But for one deal you risk losing your freedom, housing, your car, and even worse, your family, or even your life. By going to work the only thing you miss out on is trouble. Fast money does not compare to working and earning a paycheck. It will cost you a lot more to make that one deal than transportation to work.

3. You Are Not Looking
As much as McDonald’s has been mentioned, it is not the only place hiring. If every time you go out job hunting and your search begins and ends in the same place, like downtown, you are not looking. If you are just looking for a place to hire you, I know a few. But if you are actually out searching for a place to work, when you go out for interviews, show the employer just that. Show interest. Show them that you are there for work.Don’t go to Walmart and fill out an application with the mindset of “It’s only Walmart.” First and foremost you started jobless, so Walmart would be just as important as working for BMW.

4. You Don’t Want a Job
Unlike sitting on your ass and not looking for a job, wanting a job requires some interest and motivation. How hungry are you? Black men, in the city especially, seem to only show interest when there is some type of pressure. When it seems as if someone is standing over us. Someone like a a probation or parole officer. This sign reads “Get a Job or Else.” But why is it authority makes us get off of our asses and not our own ambition? What about when rent is due? Or when the lights get turned off? Instead of going to get a job in these circumstances, we run an extension cord to our neighbors. If you don’t want to work, create a job where you can do something you enjoy. I don’t consider writing books a job because I love to write. It has been said that you are not working when you do something that you love.

5. Face Tats
This may seem out of left field. But when does it stop? Nowadays you can get a job with your arms covered in tattoos, maybe even your neck. These are areas that can be covered. On the other hand it would be a little spooky if you showed up for work in a ski-mask. Then the boss would have bigger problems. If you walk up to Foot Locker and all of a sudden the “Not Hiring” sign is looking at you, don’t think they are the ones tripping. Here’s some advice. If you are broke and unemployed, don’t get face tats. Brian Williams aka Baby from Cash Money runs his own empire, so tattooing his head and face is no big deal. He isn’t the one looking for a job and neither is Lil Wayne. Even though both may rap about some of the things you have gone through in the streets, it does not mean for you to go and get a trail of tear drops under each eye. By the end of your job search those tears will have become real.

6. The Criminal Justice System
Even in jail you can find a job. The pay, let’s not go there. but some of us in prison still work because something is better than nothing and that something beats calling home begging for money and putting an undue burden on loved ones. But you don’t have to be in prison to feel the effects of the criminal justice system. Tens of thousands of Americans are denied work because of a criminal record. If people are denied a second chance for poor choices in their past, how are they expected to truly change their lives around? Chances are they will continue to make poor choices out of necessity. Those who face such a challenge, don’t give up! Keep looking your break will come. And to the public, get involved and pressure governments to ban the box and give ex-offenders a fair chance.

]]>0Emanuel Joneshttp://www.livefromlockdown.com/?p=40152015-07-30T14:02:06Z2015-07-24T12:29:38ZAt a young age I was taught to hold the steel Without understanding my own will Wasn’t free to feel Emotion wasn’t even part of the deal The house was full of love and hate Not knowing what to create Birthed a lost soul full of hate Only wished to be loved by a sibling […]

]]>0Mark Dixonhttp://www.livefromlockdown.com/?p=40132015-07-28T17:34:12Z2015-07-23T15:10:29Z“They gone respect me after this, watch!” Derrick said with all of the teary-eyed anger his fifteen-year-old heart could muster. “This is my world too; why am I always treated like I don’t belong?” said the other side of his rage. He might as well be a floor rug the way his stepdad regularly walked […]

“They gone respect me after this, watch!” Derrick said with all of the teary-eyed anger his fifteen-year-old heart could muster. “This is my world too; why am I always treated like I don’t belong?” said the other side of his rage. He might as well be a floor rug the way his stepdad regularly walked on his sense of value and worth. Always over the smallest things. Derrick was sure that his stepdad’s frustration came from his own inability to keep a job; a constant source of tension between he and Derrick’s mom. Unfortunately for Derrick, home wasn’t his only source od abuse. The kids at his highschool kicked him around like an old, dirty fastfood soda cup. Derrick felt just as misused and unwanted.

Derrick’s latest problem arose with the stylishness of his new leather sport-coat with the Chicago Bears insignia on the back. His mom made sure to save her coins to get him this jacket for his birthday. He loved it, especially since it came from his mom. At school that morning Derrick couldn’t help but smile when his teacher walked past him and commented, “Nice coat Derrick.” A compliment which was quickly combatted by a student, “Yeah right, kiss ass.” Derrick knew from then on that the coat would be trouble. Heading home from school, Derrick ran into a few people who wanted to compliment him on the stylishness of his coat. Only their idea of a compliment was to take it for themselves. A flattery that ended with Derrick walking through the crisp Chicago fall air in short sleeves. When he entered the door of his family’s two-flat home minus his jacket, plus a black-eye and fat lip, he might as well had a target painted on his head. “Boy where that jacket, and what happened to you?” Frank, his stepdad yelled at him. “Some guys jumped me. I tried to fight back but . . .” Disgusted, “but you weren’t aggressive like are with your mother and me, huh tough guy?” Derrick shot back, “Get outta my face!” He really had attempted to fight back but the bullies overwhelmed his best efforts. Just the same as life always did too. Heading to his room, Derrick felt the darkness of hate and loneliness enter him like inhaled breath. It sat within him like the welcome air he breathes in. He no longer heard his stepfather’s insults. He only wished to see him hurt too.

The postered blue walls of Derrick’s room offered little comfort. They seem to urge him with provocation, “You would’ve fought harder, this wouldn’t have happened. You shouldn’t have worn that coat any way. You’re so stupid.” He reached under his bed and pulled out the rusted black .380 caliber pistol he had found a few weeks ago while emptying trash. This would be his lawyer who would fight to make them see his value, he told himself. This would be the father to protect him since his real dad was dead. This would be the friend to avenge his victimization. The ringtone on his phone sounds, but it wasn’t able to cut through the darkness. He ignored it. Seconds later the doorbell rang. “Derrick, you got company!” Frank yelled.

Derrick honed in on his stepdad’s words like an eagle to the slightest movement. Derrick aimed to change things today. “Derrick, you in here?” Rachel, a girl from his highschool, stuck her head around the door. Her words were darts that poked the air out of his inflated anger. “I saw what happened. I think we should talk.” she said taking a seat on his bed. Deflated, his anger dissipates. Somebody cares after all, Derrick thought.

Later that night Derrick looked at himself in the mirror. “Your isn’t all that black. It’s more puffy than anything,” he smiled remembering the cute way Rachel said it. Next his eyes traveled to the bed. The pistol’s rusted black metal nearly assisted in the destruction of his life. He nearly transitioned from bullying victim to murderous bully. All that stood between the two extremes were nine words, “Damn, I am glad she decided to speak up.”

Bullying occurs on a daily basis. Never underestimate the role you can play in bringing it to an end.

]]>0Al-Tariq Gumbshttp://www.livefromlockdown.com/?p=40102015-07-30T14:01:45Z2015-07-22T13:47:30ZThis letter is to my lil Brim homies and homegirls. This is your big brother King Sankofa. I’m writing this from a federal prison complex in Memphis, Tennessee. I was sentenced to 14-years for the hood and being who I used to be. I would like to speak to y’all about a few things. I know it’s […]

This is your big brother King Sankofa. I’m writing this from a federal prison complex in Memphis, Tennessee. I was sentenced to 14-years for the hood and being who I used to be. I would like to speak to y’all about a few things. I know it’s a lot of young homies out there who don’t know me but have undying love and respect for me because of what I put down back then. Now, I want to give y’all a history lesson and let y’all know where my mind is at. I’m placing this on Live from Lockdown because this blog is for men like me to be able to get their voices out there and help fix a lot of the things that are going on. My take on things is in order to fix the present we must first start with the past and go from there because there is no future if there is no past. So I ask that you bear with me. I promise to get to the point in this letter because these tru-links [prison email] cost money. lol

A history lesson.

Back in 1999 I was a 21-year-old man facing double-life in prison for crimes that I was accused of but didn’t do. I stand on that because people still seem to think I made my name off of those cases and that is only half of the truth. See, what y’all have to understand is that people will believe whatever lie you tell them as long as it doesn’t affect them. Yes, I lived in those streets like a bum who lost his home. Yes, I was bad as a motherfucker and didn’t take any shit from anyone. But the one thing I stood on was accepting my role in anything that I did. Never once did I pass blame. While facing these charges I turned Blood and took the meaning of the letters B-L-O-O-D to heart. Those letters meant a lot to me because after hearing Khalid Muhammad speak at New York University (NYU), I knew that brotherly love would override oppression. Even though I was a little knucklehead, I still started to love my people more than ever before. I took to the Bloods with all heart and loyalty. Never once did I leave a man behind. Never once did I try to overstep myself and become some type of gangland boss. I never wanted that and still don’t. As time went on, I started to see that the love was only hidden in the hearts of many and showed in the actions of a few. It was nothing because I knew and understood that our people will always be our worst enemy. It was no different with the Bloods. I would love to sit here and say Brim is better than Sex Money Murder, or the Bloods is better than the Crips, Gangster Disciples, Latin Kings, or any other gang or organization, but in reality we all are the same in our thinking. If we have the same thinking then we have the same actions. Do you ever wonder why a Crip loves being a Crip, or any other gangster loves being who they are? It’s because they believe in what they were taught about that family, gang or organization to the point they are willing to kill and die for it. I was one of those guys. This is why my name has risen to the place it is today. I went so hard trying to put it down for the Bloods and my set that I didn’t catch the fact that I was living a hypocritical life. And the one thing I hated being was a man who seemed like he was a liar or faking it, so I tried to make myself think that what I was doing was right. I tried to teach the young sistas and brothers who came in contact with me the real way of Blood and loving who you are. My little sista Ashanti, who was the youngest Brimette, was 13 when she came to me on Woodland Ave and 11 Street back in 2001, and I remember telling her that this wasn’t for her because tomorrow she could be dead and all I could do is tell her parents I would pay for the funeral. Her answer to me was that she didn’t have a family and wanted to be with one that loved her and made sure she was ok. I asked her where were her parents. She said they lived around the corner on 10 Street. I was like why do you say you don’t have a family when they are right there? Her answer was they didn’t understand her pain and she wanted to be around people who understood her. I sat there and looked at this little lady who was only like 5’2 and a tomboy. In my mind I knew she was going to join this shit regardless of whatever I said. If it was not me, it would have been someone else. And I knew that in my heart she would be better off with me because I was going to make sure she was ok by any means. So I put her with my big sista Jelly and we watched her. One day she wanted to run away and I told her she had to go home because even though we were her family, her mother and father was her true family, and they would miss her and she needed to go home and respect their house. I held her while she cried and said she didn’t want to go back home. I knew it was the right thing for her to go home because there wasn’t anything in these streets but heartache and pain. I sent her home. This is why I have the love I have because I understand y’all pain because I was you. My mother wasn’t there when I truly needed a mother. My father didn’t get at me until I was about 10 or 11. I was a lost soul, and I took my pain out on them streets.

Yes, I was bad as a motherfucker and didn’t take any shit from anyone.

Now my lil homies sit and listen to all of these stories about how I did this and that, but y’all never hear the good stories on how I made sure my neighborhood was safe– no stolen cars or shootouts out there. If you think I’m lying, go to the land and speak to the people who were there. I helped fix my neighborhood, but I’m continuously blamed for destroying it. But I understand because at that time I wasn’t able to make my own way and be a true leader. At that time I was trying to be a man with a young man’s understanding of life. I’m telling y’all this because I want y’all to understand that yes, at times, it was fun and the love was real, but now things have changed. Y’all are being taught by guys who truly don’t care about anything but themselves. Any real homie wouldn’t want you out there on that nonsense. If you want to hold your brother or sista down that just got killed, how about going to see their family and making sure their family is good? You don’t have to go kill anyone. People think since my change of heart I have gone soft and left y’all out there to fend for yourselves but that’s not true. I’m trying to show y’all the true growth that has become me, your big brother.

Y’all are being taught by guys who truly don’t care about anything but themselves.

Unlike before I have the strength to say enough is enough. I have become a better man, and I want to see y’all do good. I gave the Bloods my word that I would do what it takes to show that love. This is what I am doing. In order for me to show you that I love you, I must do things for you that help you not hurt you.

Telling you to be a gang-banger isn’t going to help you.

Telling you to put in work for the hood isn’t going to help you.

Telling you to lie, cheat and steal from your family isn’t going to help you.

Telling you to turn your back on your true interests, passion and purpose in life isn’t going to help you.

How could a person say they love you and everything they do and say puts you in harms way? How is that love?

My job as your big brother is to give you life-lessons and make sure your eyes and ears are open. My job is not to dictate your life. If you want to live a life where you can’t even trust your own kind, then, by all means, do what you must. I’m not sitting here saying don’t love what you love. I’m saying there is a better way to show that love. You don’t have to show it by promoting hate and then profess to have love for the same thing that you are destroying.

How can a gang member tell people how to keep their kids away from gangs?

The purpose of my letter to you and anyone like you is to try and show you that life is something worth living, and anyone who tries to make you do things that will end your life is not your brother or sista. Period. I don’t care who they are or what they are saying. When I first wrote the book titled How to Keep Your Kids Away from Gangs in solitary confinement in the Management Control Unit (MCU) of New Jersey [Trenton] State Prison, my peoples asked me how can a gang member tell people how to keep their kids away from gangs? My answerwas who else is going to tell them? Then he countered, but you’re still in the gang. I said well it’s not about me. It’s about saving the ones who still have a chance to fix their lives before it gets worse and they feel like it’s too late. I would be a piece of shit to want someone to want to come join me in the misery of prison. People say I’m friendly. I say I’m real. It’s too much hate out there, and it takes too much energy to hate. I already feel like I’m 60-years-old.

Learn from my mistakes.

I want to show that there’s still some real ones left. We haven’t been broken and turned people into the government, but still we have tried to help. People will call it disloyalty because you want change, but remember, misery loves company. It’s up to you to accept the invitation. Word. So with that my lil brothers and sistas I stand before you as your big brother who has seen the holes in the wall, shoe prints on his back and the knife sticking out of his chest. I have felt the blows, and through all that pain I looked back and saw that, if not all, most of it came from those I considered loved ones who came through these hard streets with me. The love I know exists is the only reason I still fight for y’all. Another person would have given up by now, but I’m not them and this isn’t it. So I ask that y’all learn from my mistakes and love life. At the age of 37 I have yet to travel outside of my state except on a plane with a U.S. Marshall. Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to wake up and see that you are an old man or woman and your life has passed you by. But again, if you still don’t get it, then by all means put your hand over the fire and tell me if it burns.

Another person would have given up by now, but I’m not them and this isn’t it.

Regardless of how tough or loyal you are, these streets don’t care about none of that and the government don’t care about none of that. Death is death. Life in prison is life in prison. So I ask that you understand that your life is yours to dictate, not mine or anyone else other than you. I ask that you listen to the voice in your head telling you to chill out. Find something else to do with your life before you look up and a bullet hits you or those cuffs go on. By then you can’t say you are sorry or seek some type of forgiveness. Forgiveness is only a word in the Bible. In the streets and the criminal justice system forgiveness is used to manipulate us into thinking it relates to us coming from that lifestyle. The government or your rival rival has no understanding of forgiveness when they catch you trying to be a tough gang-banger. I only hope these words reach you and help you.

Even I had to kill Killa Reek in order for me to live.

Peace and I wish like hell you decide that your life is truly your own and you live it to the best of your ability.

I love y’all. I’m here for you and because of you, so use me to help you.

]]>2Vincent Gamboahttp://www.livefromlockdown.com/?p=40062015-07-27T13:14:40Z2015-07-20T12:38:12ZDear President Obama, The racially motivated killings in South Carolina has brought you to a critical point, not just in your position as leader of the United States of America, but more importantly as a spiritual being destined for a divine purpose. The divine intelligence of the universe created you from the two most powerful […]

The racially motivated killings in South Carolina has brought you to a critical point, not just in your position as leader of the United States of America, but more importantly as a spiritual being destined for a divine purpose.

The divine intelligence of the universe created you from the two most powerful hues within mankind. Just as this divine intelligence has united your parents in order to create you as a symbol of love shared between the hues. So too must you see this platform to unite the beautiful hues within humanity toward a more loving and caring way of life.

As we listened to the family members of those who were killed in Charleston, South Carolina, speak to the killer, their loved ones said, “we forgive you” and “we won’t let hate win”. We must know that their words and actions came from a divine source within. These words were spoken not just toward the killer, but this was a message sent to the hearts of racist people of all colors all over the world.

President Obama, the entire world continues to look to you for guidance and leadership. Your actions and words will carry great weight to the hearts of many people for the remainder of your presidency and beyond.

You were a child raised by a white mother and white grandparents. You became a man and married an African American woman who helped raise you to become the man you are today. You are one of the few people who experienced the beauty and ugliness within both races. You can use this experience to unite the beauty found within both races and help eradicate the ugly hatred percolating in today’s news.

In the words of Bob Marley whose mother was black and father was white, “I am not on the white man side or the black man side, I am on God’s side.”

]]>This is the first part of the “I” Statement Series of posts in which I touch on sensitive topics in urban communities. These messages are delivered from my own experiences and are part of my taking responsibility for my own actions. What I hope to accomplish through the forthcoming series of posts is to encourage more men to hold themselves accountable. I hope to raise awareness and help others #RaiseUP and identify their better self.

The words and phrases I address in this post are just six of many which are used daily in the ‘hood, especially by young men, that take away from our character.

Because we come from a certain environment does not mean that we have to become our environment.

We breathe life into these words and phrases when we use them. These six words and phrases do not help the perception others may have or may develop of us. So be mindful of what you take in.

Some of the shit your ears and eyes catch stinks when it comes out of your mouth.

1. Nigga
By now you may have heard what those before you went through behind the use of the N-word. I know what you might be thinking, it aint the same as nigger. Right. But it is. The “er” on the end just keeps your ghetto ass from sounding like the people who used the word in its early days. Let’s take a look at other words that end in “er” i.e. better, whatever, never, etc. If you are from an urban community or hang around ghetto friends or aspire to ghettoness, you more than likely pronounce those words like this: betta, whateva, neva. By calling your homeboy nigga instead of nigger you just find an acceptable way to be disrespectful. Consider what it sounds like when someone says “my nigga”. Translation: Oh, that’s just my ignorant ass homeboy. He don’t know any betta.

If we become content with not knowing better, this becomes our excuse.

These excuses are nothing more than the ok to continue doing ignorant shit. Teaching your two-year-old son or nephew how to say “what’s up my nigga” isn’t cool either. I don’t care how funny it may sound while you and your homies are high. Before you know it, he’ll be calling his momma a bitch.

When we recognize our own worth we learn to appreciate the next individual and their worth.

If we continue to communicate with ignorance, then we only become “those niggaz”. Go through your day and count how many times you use the N-word and how many times you are addressed as one. Lost count? Now ask yourself, why is it the one time when a white person uses the word that you react as if suddenly you understand the word’s full meaning?

2. Bitch
We know the outcome is never good when a man calls another man a bitch. Can you answer why? Don’t say it’s because men don’t do that or that aint how you talk to a man. These are the responses I’ve received from a group of 100 or so people I asked. So my next question, who made it ok to refer to women as bitches? When did this become cool? I’ve heard some dudes say “that’s my bitch” and supposedly this is a good thing But it confuses me. What does it mean when you tell a woman that she’s acting like a bitch? Are there different meanings? The only definition of bitch I know is a female dog. There is no comparison. Do you call your mother or sister a bitch? Would you like it if someone else called them a bitch? What about your daughter? Think about these questions the next time you decide to call a woman out of her name. Where is your respect for yourself?

For the women who accept this word i.e. “I’m his bitch” you better be careful of what you are choosing. You embrace this because:

a) Your last boyfriend addressed you this way and you have become numb to the disrespect and think that it means you are the number one girl in his life.

b) You have been misled by your current partner to believing number one equals bitch.

c) Your self-esteem is in the dirt

Our women are a reflection of us. Obviously she saw something in you and, with that, you have the ability to influence because your woman looks up to you.

Take this with you: If your woman accepts the role of your bitch, guess who you become? Her nigga.

3. Keeping it RealKeeping it real and keep it real are popular in the urban community, especially in the hip-hop world. I guess it sounds like the right thing to say, but what I’ve learned is that usually when someone claims to be keeping it real they are doing the exact opposite. What is keeping it real, and what is not?

Scenario 1

Let’s say you are friends with a guy and he gets into fight over something that was obviously his fight, like owing someone money. You jump in to assist your friend. Don’t think for one minute you kept it real. Now both of you are at risk of going to jail, being seriously hurt or even killed.

It is said that two heads are better than one, but this does not apply if neither head can think.

Keeping it real would have been to check your friend and let him know where he was wrong. He will more likely than not accept the check coming from you opposed to a stranger. If your friend was not in the wrong and you jumped in the fight to help him does not imply you kept it real either.

Scenario 2

You have a homeboy in prison. While he was away you accepted his calls, kept money on his books and even got him a few magazine subscriptions. This does not mean you kept it real. What you demonstrated were acts of real friendship. Had you done any different what kind of friend would you be? Keeping it real would have meant going over and beyond like supporting his family, contributing toward legal fees and helping him change his life. Keeping it real would be telling him how his lifestyle hurt his relationships with friends, family and community.

Scenario 3

You are a dope boy in the neighborhood. The ice cream truck comes through and you treat all the kids in the neighborhood to ice cream. Half of those kids probably wouldn’t even have a decent meal the rest of the week. Some may not have clean clothes to wear. You purchased the ice cream for one of three reasons”

a) an attempt to build a reputation as the neighborhood’s good guy

b) trying to sleep with one of the kid’s mothers or relatives

c) ego and self gratification

Why ball out at the ice cream truck? You could purchase school supplies or clothes for the kids?

Another misconception of keeping it real: Saying what’s on your mind no matter what. This person is blunt and straight forward. This can be a double-edge sword. While he may be keeping it real by calling a spade a spade, he’s aware of when it is necessary.

Someone who is reckless with their mouth can be poison to himself and those around him.

Another misconception of keeping it real: “Making it rain. If “you are broke, you will wish you had those same singles in the morning. If you got it like that, they could have been put to better more effective use.

Let’s take some of your favorite rappers. I her guys say things like, “Jay-Z worth half-a-billion dollars and still can go to the hood.” Of course he can. How far behind do you think security would be? Others say, “Fifty Cent can’t go back to Queens.” Probably not. There was already one attempt on his life. A rapper who has made it in the music industry is not real because he goes back to the ‘hood. I’d say he is crazy.

There are millions of ways of giving back without going back.

It is no secret that when you make more money people become jealous of you. Keeping it real would be to accept that you may have become someone’s target.

How many deaths have occurred in the industry because rappers wanted to keep it real?

You want to keep it real? Well, it starts with self.

In light of all the misconceptions of keeping it real, do you think its a coincidence that in the ‘hood people say, “all the real niggaz either dead or in jail?”

4. Square
People come in all different shapes and sizes, but I believe that squares are a unique group. Often I hear guys say things like, “Bruh, that’s some square shit,” or “he a square as dude.” Something I have learned is the squares seem to be the most successful. The square is said to be the dude working a nine-to-five and goes home to his family. The square is responsible, maybe even a little green (naïve). The square is not only aware of risk, but he knows when and how to say no. In my opinion the square is the modern man, one who knows how to conduct himself.

During my prison journey I have listened to guys vent about how their girlfriends or baby-mothers were n longer holding it down. The spiel usually ends like this: “Now she got herself a square ass dude.” There is a huge part of them who would love to trade places with that square.

One thing for certain and two things for sure, the square knows how to keep his ass out of jail.

My question to you, why hate on the square if you want some of the same things i.e. freedom, a job, and your girl? Deep down you have square intentions, but you have too much pride to try on the slacks and button-ups.

What makes a square less of a man than a thug or a gangsta?

Raw and uncut, it’s the square who is looking after your child(ren). The square is going to keep your child(ren) from following in your footsteps. Here are some examples of gentlemen who are said to be squares.

Jeff Johnson– I have yet to meet the brother personally, but when I had the privilege of reading his book Everything I Am Not, Made Me Everything I Am TodayI added him to my list of mentors. I remember Jeff first as a BET correspondent and working on the team with the NAACP. He is a part of the change. So it has to be good to be a square.

Kobe Bryant– Kobe was born overseas and raised in Pennsylvania. He speaks multiple languages and as tough as he has shown to be in his NBA career he is indeed still considered a square.

Lebron James– King James was born and raised in the ghetto of Akron, Ohio, even had a hard life as a kid. Lebron, if you have followed his story, has always been focused on his craft. He kept good grades and his hard work paid off. Now this square is arguably the best ever basketball player in the world.

Will Smith– Born and raised in West Philly, Will made it known that the playground is where he spent the most of his days. (Square)

Can we agree that many squares have their shit together?

Although most of my life was a struggle, mainly because I made my life hard, I had choices, and I was not careful when making decisions. I have no regrets. Yet I have experience to thank for where I am today. I very much look forward to joining the men who are considered squares. Where do I sign up?

5. Go Hard!
One terrible tip given to the younger generation. This advice has not only come from the old heads in the ‘hood such as your uncles and friends, but is the same advice passed down from some of the youth’s idols– rappers.

I want you to sit down and carefully think about everyone you knew growing up and who you know today who had the go hard mentality. Where are they now? In my own evaluation here’s what I found. A childhood friend of mine went hard at just about everything that was negative. If it was drinking, he would find the hardest liquor and attempt to outdrink everyone else in the crew until he passed out. As kids, when we strolled other neighborhoods and walked up to strangers to see who could knock them out. he would always search for the biggest victim. When girls turned him down, he would call them every name in the book and even chase some down and slam them into snow piles or rain puddles. He would jump head first into steel trash cans. He went to the state pen in 2000. Last I heard, he was still there.

2 brothers who I refuse to mention by name never went to school. They spent most of their time growing up beating up girls. They would rob people and stores. By the age of 18, they were both strung out on drugs. I remember walking pass stores and restaurants and seeing both brothers standing on the curb begging for change. Their going hard cost them their lives at an early age.

Another childhood friend who had once was a star athlete began to follow the wrong crowd and got turned out on PCP. While high on PCP, he took his own life in 2005.

A number of friends who joined the gang life around the same time I did were really going hard. Many lost their lives in the streets, while others, lost their lives to the system. Fortunately, for me, I did not go hard enough and one day soon will regain my freedom.

This go hard thing is misleading.

If you are going to go hard for anything let your intentions be for the right things. Use guys like Sean “Puffy” Combs, whether you like him or not, as examples of those who went hard. Puff started as an intern and his hunger and drive put him at the top of his profession. Some of the same squares mentioned earlier may even know stories about guys who went hard for the wrong things. But those squares were smart enough to carry those experiences and use them as fuel to go even harder at something meaningful. If you want to go hard, go to school and study until you cannot study anymore. You should want to master your major. Take the fastfood job and go hard at it. Who knows, maybe one day you will own a franchise. If you sweep floors, go hard at it. Keep those floors looking new. Maybe one day you will own the building.

You don’t have to be king of the hill. Take pride in your work!

Obviously going hard can be taken many different ways. If you have made it this far into the post, you know that the only way to go hard is to take the right path.

Do something positive. Don’t go hard only to become a statistic.

6. It’s Hard Out Here
This one that I have heard one too many times. It reminds of when a guy goes to jail and you ask him what he’s locked up for and he says, “some bullshit.” That’s my exact thought, for the most part, when I hear people say it’s hard out here— bullshit. I have heard this from some loved ones when I used to call home from prison and ask for money. Here’s a reason why I appreciate the experience. It gave me enough time to work on myself. I had over a decade to really dig deep within myself to bring out my best.

Growing up I learned how to play football and basketball. I would say I was fairly good, but I never did have the dreams of competing professionally. Instead, like many kids in my city [Paterson, New Jersey], I just knew that I would be a rapper. I began writing music at the age of 12 and was good at it. Then I was introduced to the drug game. I once believed the drug game went hand in hand with a rap career. I believed that it did not make sense to rap about things I was not into. I had my share of jobs, but I felt at home in the streets where I would often remind myself, it’s hard out here. That was because I had a one-track mind. The streets were all I knew. Then I learned more during my time in prison. I learned that not only was I gifted at writing music, but I was a writer. I had a gift and my time away opened my mind to other opportunities and possibilities, which no longer just left with a Plan-A, but B, C and D followed.

I remember phone conversations with one of my relatives who fell into this it’s hard out here mindset. If she even thought the call was about money, she would go into this drawn out spiel of how hard it was. Then, later in the conversation, she would tell me about her plans to go clubbing and to go to Atlantic City. I was left eyeing the phone wondering if she had suddenly forgot how our conversation began. I did not just write this relative off as dishonest. I felt she may had her priorities out of order. But, others who regularly screamed about how broke they were all of the time, I felt were pathetic.

While I have been in prison, I have had time to sit and think about many legitimate and profitable ways to make a living. Those who scream constantly it’s hard out here sound content with their struggle. If you are sitting on your couch waiting for the next come-up to fall in your lap, your behind might fall asleep first.

You must work for what it is that you want.

How can you continue to say it’s hard out here when you have yet to try something different?

It’s hard out here sounds like I can’t do that. I consider this to be failure without trying. I can’t means that you won’t. If you are saying it’s hard out here and you are not willing to step outside of your box, you more than likely won’t succeed.

It’s hard out there? Imagine being in prison where preying eyes wander.

When you tell yourself it’s hard, you create the possibility of doing something stupid like selling drugs or robbing someone. These quick come-ups usually end with quicker trips to prison.

Life is not easy. Wipe the tears and get off your ass!

Think about other countries where there is war everyday and people do not have the freedoms you have. But it’s hard out here? Or what about other countries who do not have regular electricity, running water, girls are forced into marriage, and children endure forced labor? These are places where it is hard. To overcome the thought of your life as hard, compare your conditions to any of the above.

]]>1Shawn Wrighthttp://www.livefromlockdown.com/?p=39982015-07-23T15:26:56Z2015-07-16T12:34:55ZThis month marks fifteen years my lil sister was murdered by some fellow gang members I knew in my city [Louisville, Kentucky]. Let me tell you a lil about LaKnogony McCurley aka Nee-Nee. See me and Nee-Nee were like real brothers and sisters. I grew up with Nee-Nee’s brother Lex, my right hand man ’til this day. Nee-Nee was […]

This month marks fifteen years my lil sister was murdered by some fellow gang members I knew in my city [Louisville, Kentucky]. Let me tell you a lil about LaKnogony McCurley aka Nee-Nee. See me and Nee-Nee were like real brothers and sisters. I grew up with Nee-Nee’s brother Lex, my right hand man ’til this day. Nee-Nee was a straight-A student and was never been in trouble a day in her life. She loved cheerleading up until her death. She was always attractive to streets dudes cause that’s who she was around. Nee-Nee was dating a a dude affiliated with the Bloods gang, and he was beefing with the Crips from another part of the city. A couple people were shot and killed off the back of this war, and Nee-Nee was part of that. 1 night Nee-Nee and dude decided to go to the skating rink. When they showed up the Crips were there chilling like everybody else. That’s what we did on Sundays. We always told Nee-Nee, “stop fucking with dude before he get you killed,” but she didn’t listen. When Nee-Nee and dude left the skating rink, the Crips followed them. When they got off the expressway, the Crips pulled up beside them and opened fired killing Nee-Nee instantly. She was shot in the head. Dude who she was with didn’t get a scratch. But dude’s friend in the back seat got hit. The Crips pulled off and got low for a while.

Nee-Nee was set to go to college the next day but never made it. A few years later the Crip was caught and sentenced to 25-years-to-life. Ever since Nee-Nee’s death things have not been the same without her. I can still see her face in the casket, the look on her mother’s face and the beef that me and her brother got into off the back of her death. Ladies dealing with dudes in the streets, there’s alot that comes with it. My sister paid for it with her life.